


Quick

by LoversAntiquities



Series: Codas [18]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coda, Episode: s11e15 Beyond the Mat, M/M, POV Dean Winchester, POV Second Person, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2016-03-09
Packaged: 2018-05-25 15:13:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6199975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoversAntiquities/pseuds/LoversAntiquities
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s no rush, at least at first. A nod and a more than crude gesture under the bar, well out of sight of everyone else downing shot after shot of tequila and whiskey, and Gunner follows you down the hall and into the restroom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quick

There’s no rush, at least at first. A nod and a more than crude gesture under the bar, well out of sight of everyone else downing shot after shot of tequila and whiskey, and Gunner follows you down the hall and into the restroom. Two stalls, two sinks, and a lock on the knob—you flip it before you forget and test its give. Locks don’t mean anything in joints like this, not all the time. More than enough walk-ins led to that habit. Now, there’s a solid board separating you from the rest of the bar, rowdy wrestlers and all.

That door is also what holds you up when Gunner shoves you up against it, his fingers in your shirt, yours grasping desperately at his coat—whether for leverage or removal, you don’t care. This is what you’ve wanted for the greater part of the last few decades, if you let yourself sit still long enough to fantasize about it. His mouth on yours, those strong hands caressing every inch of you, fingers digging into your flesh hard enough to bruise. You open your mouth willingly against his, half caught in a gasp when one hand squeezes your hip, the other around your nape, drawing you into a crushing kiss.

You shouldn't moan as loud as you do. You don’t _mean_ to, but it’s almost too much to handle, him crowding you so close to the wall, groping the back of your pants and _squeezing_ , hard enough to drag you close, the definite bulge in his jeans pressing against your own. If anything, you groan louder, your eyes rolling back into your head the closer he pulls you, until you’re touching everywhere imaginable.

“Pick your place,” Gunner hushes into your ear after he pulls away, latching onto that spot beneath your ear that sets your blood on fire every time.

“Sink,” you groan, hoarse.

He hears it all the same and lets go, shoving you in the direction of the porcelain sinks, your ass hitting the lip. From your pockets, he’s pulled the condom and packet of lube you snuck in there earlier. _Thank God for intuition_ , you think and grab his collar, capturing his lips again. Gunner wastes no time getting your fly undone, promptly shoving your jeans down to your ankles, your cock standing proud at eye level. It’s enticing, him on his knees before you, but it’s not what you want. Maybe another day, but not now. Not when you’re about to get fucked like in every single one of your fantasies, always featuring Gunner Lawless and you naked in one way or another.

He turns you to face the mirror without preamble, the soft rip of a wrapper shocking you to your senses. Gunner’s fingers are cold at first, the initial touch of lube always a shock. But the feel of them makes up for it, the first finger thick and warm and _huge_ in your ass, sliding in easy. You white-knuckle the sink while he works you open, one broad palm on your ass at all times, occasionally spanking, hard enough to raise an angry red mark. You moan around them and wish you could spread yourself further, maybe hike a leg up, let him get deeper. As it is now, you revel in it, the way those thick digits spread you wide, catching your prostate and rubbing there until you’re begging for him to stop, to fuck you hard. Whatever it is, you don't know.

But Gunner does. Three fingers in and you’re panting, your breath hot on the mirror in front of you; he’s mirthful in the reflection, practically grinning as he pulls them free, leaving your ass to clench around nothing. Part of you wishes you could’ve see it, the way they looked fucking you open. Another time, and you’d’ve had him on the bed, you on your back with him between your legs, fucking you wide with just his hand.

Right now, you’ll take anything. “Never thought you’d be here, did you?” Gunner muses at your back, slapping your ass again. You huff out a breath with the contact, barely biting back a whine.

You’ve been here before—on your knees in back alley bathrooms, bent over sinks and shoved against walls, all with different men. But none of them have ever been like him. No one’s ever manhandled you out of your pants and hoisted you up against the wall. No one’s ever kissed you while they wrapped your legs around their waist, not in the way he does. All brute force and adrenaline, all pouring from his fingers and his lips, growing more and more intoxicating as the seconds pass.

You’re too busy moaning into his mouth to notice the crinkle of the condom wrapper outside of your field of vision, too busy trying to devour his skin with lips and teeth. And then he’s pushing in, the blunt head of his cock slipping past your rim. He’s bigger than anyone you’ve ever been with, hard and thick and pulsing, and you let out the most undignified moan once he bottoms out, your chest heaving, shirt sweat soaked where it clings to your skin. You won’t be able to explain this later, why you look like you’ve just run a marathon and you’re winded, heart beating a mile a minute.

Part of you doesn't want to, either. Not with the way he’s thrusting into you now, your back sliding up and down the wall with every push and shove. He’s barely breaking a sweat—meanwhile, you pant endearments into his ear and beg for more, your fingers digging into his jacket hard enough to rip to the very seams. “More,” you whine, breath shuddering between thrusts, cock buried to the root in your ass. “Fuckin’— _harder_.”

And he obliges, tightening his grip on the small of your back and pulling you against him, deeper now, the bathroom filled with the slick sounds of skin against skin and your own moans. Loud—so _loud_ , and you can’t stop yourself, too busy categorizing every vein, every individual divot of his cock as it breaks you apart from the inside. He kisses you with honeyed lips after a while, slowing solely to adjust your position, to keep you from falling out of his hold. You end up somewhat vertical, your shoe-clad feet digging into the backs of his thighs when he thrusts, again and again, slick and deep into your ass.

Your own cock ends up as an afterthought, hard and leaking against your stomach, shirt rucked up under your armpits from where Gunner’s pushed it. You have half the mind to stroke it, get yourself off the old fashioned way, but from the way he’s fucking you and the sounds he’s grunting into your ear, against your lips, you think you could come from this alone.

He’s apparently dead set on finding out as well, his cock incessant against your prostate, the drag too much all at once. Your toes clench inside your shoes when you pull him in for another kiss, your breaths coming in quick bursts, moans hitting a fever pitch. “Gonna come,” you manage, just before your cock spills fat trails across your stomach, the heat of orgasm seizing you in the scant seconds after you come, mouth caught in a shout.

Gunner works you through it with a cry of his own, hips working quick circles while he comes inside the condom, cock thickening even further. In the last vestiges of orgasm, you whimper, your chest deflating in the lull.

Never in your life will you admit to the sound you make when he pulls out, leaving you to gather your bearings while he rips off the condom. It’s surreal in the aftermath—Gunner Lawless just fucked you in a _public restroom_ , and all you can think about is how fat his cock is, half hard and softening. _That was inside me_ , you muse, breathless and ready to nurse the twinge in your lower back, both from Gunner’s hands and the concrete wall.

It takes all of your willpower not to reach over and kiss him again, pull him close and force his bare cock back in, like you wanted it in the first place. Instead, he hands you your pants from where they landed in the sink, a sheepish grin on his lips. He plays it off and, unlocking the door, leaves you with a wave, making sure to shut it as gently as possible after his exit.

For the first time, you know what it feels like to be on the receiving end of a bathroom quickie—at least this time, pantless and bruised with kiss-bitten lips, you can’t bring yourself to care.

**Author's Note:**

> Yada yada should be writing novel, yada yada wrote fic instead. BUT STINA MADE ME, BLAME HER.
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://tragidean.tumblr.com) and [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/loversantiquity).


End file.
